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NO “NOVOSTI”*
IS GOOD NEWS

by Tomas Schuman

* Novosti (pronounced No-vas-tee) means
“new's" in Russian language. It is also the
name of a Soviet KGB’s front lor espio¬
nage, propaganda, desin forma lion and
subversion. Novosti Press Agency (APN)
network spreads its tentacles all over the
world. It serves the ultimate goal of the
Communist elite - world domination.

I worked for it.

Tomas David Schuman,

ZZ ^KGB^en, ~ o, N OVOit|

• I

•-V,

Table of Contents

1. What kind of “press agency” is Novosti?

2. What do they mean by 'propaganda”?

3. Novosti from roof to basement, things and people in between.

4. Novosti s “kitchen", or should we say “outhouse"?

5. One day in the life of a Novosti employee.

6. W hat are foreigners?

7. A loyal and dedicated stepson (or how to get recruited to the
KGB).

8. A ride for Look magazine.

9. No birds with two stones.

10. in the name of World Peace.

11. Dawning of “Detente".

Drawings and covers by Soviet dissident artists Vyacheslav Sysoyev
and Boris Mukhamedshin

ALMANAC

Los Angeles, 1985

WHAT KIND OF A “PRESS AGENCY”

IS NOVOSTI?

It is “an information agency of the Soviet public organizations.” —
says the official Charter, — ”... to promote peace and understand¬
ing between the nations of the world. 1 Ever since the Novosti Press
Agency (APN) was established in February 1961, hardly a year
passed without a scandalous evidence of what kind of “public”orga-
nizations are using APN and for what sort of'‘information.”

In 1963 the Government of the Congro Republic (Kinshasa),
today — Zaire, expelled for espionage and subversion a Soviet
correspondent Benik Beknazar-Yuzbashev, an employee of two
Soviet organizations, both equally “public”: Novosti and the KGB. 2
Five years later the journalist died in Moscow, officially from blood
cancer. Unofficially, according to rumors circulated among the
Novosti staffers, the cause of death was a strange incurable desease
inoculated into him in a Congo prison by the African “brothers”as a
token of their gratitude for Benik's far too active work to turn the
young African state into a Soviet colony.

In May, 1963 another African country, Kenya, expelled another
employee of APN-KGB, whose name was diplomatically not even
mentioned in the Kenya press . 3

In March. 1966 Kenya waslessdiplomaticinexpellingyetanother
APN-KGB man, Yuri Kuritsin. His name was mentioned. 4

In 1964, Washington received a Soviet diplomat, deputy chief
editor of a Novosli’s magazine, “Soviet Fife", published officially by
the USSR Embassy in the USA. His name was Boris Karpovich, and
he was a former deputy chairman of Novosti Press Agency. Comrade
Karpovich lasted as a “journalist” only till January 1965. to be ex¬
pelled as “persona non grata.” 5 That did not discourage Moscow at
all. Ever since, that position has been occupied by a KGB man. Pre¬
sently. he is Oleg Benukh. my former APN boss.

In 1965. a humorous and sociable Boris Korolyov, also known
among us, Novosti staffers, by the nick-name “ant”, arrived in
Ottawa. His affiliation with the KGB, even his rank (colonel) w f as
well known in advance to the RCMP (Canadian counter-intelli¬
gence), and for that matter to the press. But Canadian press at that
time w'as too busy lambasting the American CI A to reveal the KGB.
Korolyov enjoyed unprecedented hospitality: during the peak of the
Soviet invasion into Czechoslovakia, in August 1968. Ottawa press-
club kindly offered its premises to my pal Korolyov to stage a wel¬
coming banquet in honor of another Soviet agent arriving in
Canada. He was “Pravda’s”correspondent Konstantin Geivandov I
do not know how effective the two comrades were as spies (and if
there were anything to spy upon in Canada under Pierre Trudeau),

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but 1 know that Geivandov was expelled in 1974. whilst Korolyov
remained and became reknown in the press as a strong "critic . or
rather slanderer, of the exiled Russian classic Alexander Solzhenit¬
syn. 7

In 1977. in New Delhi, India, there was a handsome and snobish
Novosti correspondent named Vladimir Simonov. It would be a
waste of time to look for him at our headquarters in Barakhabma
Road number 25. There were not too many reports by Simonov in
the Soviet press about India. No wonder: Vladimir Simonov was a
KGB officer whose duty was not so much reporting from India, as
attracting the media, diplomats and politicians into Soviet orbit. For
that activity Simonov had to reside separately from the Soviet
diplomatic anthill, in a spacious bungalow with Indian servants and
two cars. According to an American friend of mine, UPl's foreign
correspondent Dale Morsch, who met Simonov frequently in New
Delhi, Simonov's attempts at recruitment were primitive, naive and
rude. Maybe they were ... But India even now remains in the Soviet
sphere of influence, government of the late prime-minister Indira
Gandhi all hut condoned Soviet invasion in Afghanistan, and hosted
the Soviet-sponsored "Conference of the non-allied” countries toge¬
ther with Yasser Arafat and Fidel Castro. And Indian press remains
rather anti-American despite wisdom, subtlely and politeness ol the
American agents, and, possibly, as a result of “rudeness ol the
Soviet ones.

Comrade Simonov’s stay in India was cloudless all the way till
1970, when 1 defected to the West. Later Simonov re-emcrgcd briefly
in Canada as a “press-officer'* of the USSR embassy in Ottawa, when
1 was already employed by the C anadian Broadcasting Corporation
(CBC). I would not be surprised a bit, if my former senior comrade
played a part in the KG B efforts to unleash Canadian trudeaucracy
on me and get me out of the CBC’s International Broadcasting
service for my “right wing extremism"... Presently, in 1985, as l write
this book, comrade Simonov is accredited in New York city as a
Novosti correspondent and a stringer for the Soviet “Literaturnaya
Gazeta." Obvious promotion!

In 1967, Alexei Kazantsev was expelled from Ghana for espio¬
nage. He was another Novosti-KGB hybrid whom I knew personally
and met occasionally in Moscow in 1968, between my assignments to
India.

From 1967 on, during the annual exhibition “Expo" in Montreal,
a number of my Novosti comrades were functioning as translators

and electronic espionage operators ab >ard of Alexander Pushkin ,

the famous KGB “love boat.” One of my KGB contacts gave me a
lour of the “restricted areas”, the lower decksand holds, ol the ocean

Novosti’s contribution in Congo’s "liberation"

1967, Moscow. Novosti men (Victor Dubograi in the center)
selebrating assignment to Vietnam. Below: 1976, "Killing
fields" of Indochina after Soviet "fraternal aid”...

liner when it was docked in Leningrad between cruises. After my
defection, 1 used that information (and some photographs) to alert
the American press and the FBI to prevent admission of “Pushkin"
or similar spy-ships to Long Beach harbor during the 1984 Olympic
games. With my humble contribution, l suspect, American conserva¬
tive and patriotic groups succeeded to force the Soviets to “boycot”
the 1984 Olympics. Good riddance! It was the first Olympic games in
the history — without dishonest Soviet State gladiators posing as
“amateurs”... Also I credit myself with an effort to save Los Angeles
from a small invasion of some 15.000 KGB agents, arriving as
“guests” for the Olympics.

At the end of 1967 my former school-mate at Oriental Languages
Institute Viktor Dubograi was assigned to Vietnam. Officially — to
Hanoi as Novosti correspondent. According to “sources” — Viktor
was sent to the so-called “liberated areas” of South Vietnam as one of
the KGB instructors. At the very time the Soviet junta was talking
about peace and denouncing the American “war crimes”, the KGB
was hurriedly creating a stand-by force of mass terror and oppression
in the image of the KGB — in South Vietnam. As it became evident in
April 1975. the KGB efforts were extremely “productive”: half of the
population ended up in “re-education camps.”

In June 1968, on orders from the KGB, a large group of Novosti
journalists, including myself, were conducting a secret “opinion poll”
among foreign diplomats and correspondents in Moscow: “How
would their governments react to Soviet involvement in Czechoslo¬
vakia?” Evidently, the KGB was satisfied with the results, for on the
23-d of August, 1968, Sovie tanks crushed through streets of Prague
. . None of the Western governments “reacted”

And in the morning of August 28,1968 Novosti Press Agency staff
was saying last goodbys to two of our comrades, who were burned
alive when their army helicopter crashed near Prague, while carrying
a load of propaganda designed to convince the West, that Soviei
troops were “invited”to Czechoslovakia by“patriots.” Fake publica¬
tions were printed by the APN-KGB in Dresden. One of the roasted
comrades was Karl Nepomnyashchi. an old-time KGB officer.

In May, 1976, Novosti correspondent in Japan, Alexander
Machekin was arrested by the police in Yokohama, when he tried to
buy secret information from a junior officer from the US aircraft-
carrier “Midway” docked in Yokohama.*

Between 1980 and 1985 at least a dozen Novosli-KGB agents had
been expelled during massive counter-intelligence operations from
several NATO countries and France. It took Western intelligence
services, law-enforcement agencies and courts almost TWENTY
FOU R Y E A RS (!) to start doing something to protect their countries

against APN-KGB subversion. Why so long?

15 years after my defection from the USSR embassy in India. 15
years after l was debriefed by the American CIA and revealed the
nature of APN-KGB activity in the “Third World” — more than 15
countries of Asia. Africa and Latin America had been infiltrated,
demoralized, destabilized, subverted and some — INVADED by
military force, and kept occupied ... And yet. Novosti Press Agency
is still officially accepted in all the capitals of the world! Once in a
blue moon. Western bureaucracies “undertake drastic measures”,
like denying an entry visa into USA to a Novosti agent, trying to
come to some “university conference". It happened recently — to a
“Russian journalist" A. Makarov. 9

The above list of instances, illuminating the nature of Novosti
Press Agency is far from complete. What kind of a “news agency * is
Novosti?

1. Pravda. January 4. 1961; Izwstia, March 23. 1961.

2. The KGB, by John Barron. Readers Digest. 1974. page 513.

3. Moscow's Hand in India, by Peter Sager. Bern. 1966, page 22.

4. East African Standard, Nairobi, March 11. 1966.

5. The KGB. by John Barron, page 524.

6. Toronto Sun newspaper, January 17, 1974.

7. The Last Circle, collection of articles on Solzhenitsyn. APN,
1974.

8. The Montreal Star, May 14. 1976.

9. VP1. August 20, 1984.

The geographical location of Novosti Press Agency is a sort of
spatial trick; headquarters of the APN located at Pushkin Square,
right behind the ultra-modern Russia movie theatre in Moscow,
while the “branches” of Novosti. according to the official Charter,
are located in the capitals and major cities ol 130 countries ot '.he
world. Yet Novosti foreign bureaus are in most cases not called
“Novosti” at all — for they are attached to or constitute the entirety
of the Information Departments of the USSR embassies all over the
world.

Time-wise it is similarly tricky: the APN exists simultaneously in
several eras. One can iind within Novosti elements ol the pre-histo-
rica) Communism. war-Communism ol post-revolutionary era,
middle-ages wdth its inquisitions and witch-hunts, fascist reich with
its own Goebelses. something from democracy of today’s West, and
even certain elements of Orwellian-tvpe future — ihcnewspeak and
remodeling of history.

The very name of Novosti Press Agency is a beautiful example of
the newspeak and reminds one either of Orwell’s “Ministry ofTruth”
or “Evtushenko’s “Ministry of Tenderness.“The fact is, that there is
no news as they are erroneously and non-marxistlike understood in
the West — as reports about the current events. This sort of news
could easily contradict the prophesies of the founders of Marxism-
Leninism. and thus give a wrong and totally unscientific picture of
reality.

Neither is there any “press” in Novosti Press Agency, at least in the
meaning of the word accepted in the West and related to journalistic
profession. But it does not mean that the APN has no press. “Press is
the most potent weapon of our Party”, said the Friend and Teacher
of all the journalists Joseph Vissarionovitch Stalin — and he was
right, lathe APN the word press is understood mainly as a technical
term — printing press, or as an abstract term in a sentence: “The
Soviet Press is the most truthful press in the world”, a slogan that
decorates walls of many editorial offices in the USSR.

The only word most relevant to the activities of the APN is
“agency". To understand better the nature of the occupation of some
500 journalists, 2500 editors and copy boys. 1000 typists and secreta¬
ries and close to 3000 technical service staff and auxiliary workers, let
us have a closer look at the semantics of this term. According to the
Etymological Dictionary of Russian l anguage by C.P. Tsiganenko,
page 16:

“Agency . . . agent — a trusted body, or a person. The
word borrowed from Germans at the beginning of the
seventeenth Century A.D. “Acting” — participal form
from the word “agere” — to move, to urge to move. Thus
in European languages, ‘agent’ — any force in nature or
society, which causes movement. See also ‘Agitation’

Let us see the meaning of‘agitation.’The word.as weshallsee. has
a lot to link the APN with the department of Agitation and Propa¬
ganda of the Central Committee of the Communist Party of the
Soviet Union — Agitprop. The relation between the two, the word
and the department, is not only semantic, but administrative as well.
So:

“An activity with a purpose of political upbringing of the
masses. From Latin, ‘Agitatio’ — movement, activity. An
abstract noun from the verb ‘agere’ — to excite, incite.
PROVOKE. .

Now we have got to a very interesting word — “provoke”. Let us
see now what is it exactly the APN “provokes” the masses of people
to do. A concise Political Dictionary edited by A.R. Dobronravova
on page 5 says:

$§»

s^ss3%SS?S2i'- 1

S^V^grA*

“ W '"?rtS«» "* "Tree

“Agitation, verbal and printed, is a political activity
directed to influence consciousness and mood of the
masses with the purpose of attracting or involving them
in active participation in solving of important socio-poli¬
tical and economical tasks. The means of agitation: dis¬
cussions, meetings, newspapers, radio, television, cine¬
ma, posters, cartoons etc. Agitation is a sharp and potent
weapon of political struggle between classes and parties.

See also ‘propaganda*.

All right! Let us see what Mrs. Dobronravova and Soviet official¬
dom considers propaganda. In the same dictionary, on page 210:
“Propaganda — is the process of explanation, dissemina¬
tion and establishing of political ideas, theories and
teachings. Propaganda has always a class character, it is
always partisan. Communist Party’s propaganda is ver¬
bal or printed explanation and dissemination of ideas of
Marxism-Leninism and of the current policy of the
Communist Party. It is an inseparable part of the current
policy of the Communist Party. It is an inseparable part
of the political education of the masses. Revolutionary
propaganda was a reliable weapon of the Communist
Party in the period of preparation and implementation of
the armed uprisal in 1917 as well as on all other conse¬
quent stages of the Socialist construction. Propaganda of
Marxism-Leninism acquires special importance in the
circumstances of sharpening ideological struggle and
class struggle in the international arena. The Communist
Party of the Soviet Union is constantly perfecting the
methods of propaganda.

As we see, everything is rather logical, consistent and — most
important — perfectly honest: translated from the Soviet newspeak
into passable English, the two definitions above mean the following:
a) within the USSR or any territory under Soviet control, APN
“influences" masses of populace to accept the conditions estabished
by the Party unquestionably and work without strikes or protests.
Ideologically Novosti works towards STABILITY, b) “In the inter¬
national arena” i.e. in foreign countries which are not yet included in
the sphere of Soviet imperialism. Novosti Press Agency functions as
a factor of DESTABILISATION and destruction of accepted moral
values through encouraging CLASS AND IDEOLOGICAL
STRUGGLE.

It could not be any simpler! Both of these functions of Novosti
Press Agency are evident if one reads the official APN Charier,
translating the paragraphs of the Charter from the “newspeak” into
normal human language. Here is an example of such a translation:

Official text of the Charter

The Novosti Press Agency
(APN) is an information agen¬
cy of the Soviet public organi¬
sations, operating under Arti¬
cles 125 and 126 of the Consti¬
tution of the USSR.

No Soviet State organ bears
responsibility for the business
activities and financial obliga¬
tions or any other actions of the
Agency. Nor does the agency
bear responsibility for any
claims against the Soviet State
or any other Soviet organisa¬
tion.

The Agency pursues the aim of
facilitating in every possible
way the promotion and conso¬
lidation of international under¬
standing, confidence and
friendship.

. . . widely circulating abroad
true information about the
Soviet Union and acquainting
the Soviet public with the life of
other peoples.

Actual meaning

The Novosti Press Agency
(APN) is an extension of Agit¬
prop Department of the Cen¬
tral Committee, established for
propaganda, subversion and
intelligence gathering.

Posing as "independent", the
APN is in fact a direct and
subordinate extension of the
Party-State bureaucracy,
which removes from itself any
responsibility for knowingly
illegal or imoral actions of the
APN.

The Agency facilitates, in the
way of propaganda, the im¬
plementation of the USSR
leadership's internal and
foreign policy, using indoctri¬
nation and coercion on one
hand, and inciting hatred and
class struggle and terrorism on
the other.

In the USSR: slandering and
downgrading everything
foreign if not under Soviet
domination.

Abroad; presenting selected
and censored half-truths glori¬
fying the Soviet way of life, dis¬
information.

. . . exchanges information
material ... on the basis of
reciprocity. .

Its aim is not to make profit...
sponsoring public organisa¬
tions participate in financing
the Agency.

Enters into contact and con¬
cludes agreements with both
state-owned and coopera tively-
and privately owned (foreign)
media ... to supply them with
Agency material for an AP¬
PROPRIATE FEE.

Showering foreign countries
with Marxist propaganda,
while banning every foreign
newspaper, periodical or book
within the USSR.

Unlimited budgeting of the
Agency by the State-Party dic¬
tatorship, absolutely unac¬
countable to any public organi¬
zation or private individual
whatsoever. The annual budget
is around 2.4 billion dollars.

Forcing agency's material upon
foreign media free of charge,
more often PAYING to the
media for publications of the
APN stuff, or using "every pos¬
sible way” — i.e. briber)',
blackmail, corruption, drun¬
kenness.

There is no point in going into technical details of the Novosti
Charter. What is important here, and what will be demonstrated in
further chapters of the book, is: despite the masquerade as a "public
and non-government", the APN can not be anything else but an
organ of MONOPOLY PROPAGANDA, an extension of subver¬
sion apparatus of the Party. The functions and aims of the APN can
not be anything else but those of forming public opinion by the
methods, which even in the “fascist” rightist dictatorships are under¬
stood as VIOLATING HUMAN MIND. It can not be otherwise in
the society where “The Party is our consciousness” and where “The
Party and the People are the one.”

The danger of monopoly propaganda could hardly be overestima¬
ted. A Swiss author Peter Sager in his research on Novostis activity
in India arrives at the followingdefinition of monopoly propaganda:
“Propaganda is the attempt to convince a greater or lesser
group of people of the justice of ones own opinion
(whether ideology, philosophy of life or religious beliefs)
through a consciously onesided description of data or
events. It is not necessarily bound to any particular poli-

tical regime. In so far as it works towards spreading
opinions by conviction and not by force, it is used in
democratic countries as well as by dictatorships.

As long as propaganda represents one opinion out of
many and accepts or even encourages the existance of its
rivals, its onesidedness is entirely legitimate. Indeed, pro¬
paganda of this kind provides the basis for the free forma¬
tion of opinion. It promotes discussion and is conse¬
quently a characteristic of democracy.

But when propaganda monopolies the opinion-
making fuction and all counter-propaganda is exclu¬
ded, so that in the effect the expression of one opinion
provides the only source of information — then it is
imposing itself by force.

Monopoly propaganda is an inescapable characteristic
of dictatorship.

During its existence the Novosti Press Agency clearly demonstra¬
ted itself as an efficient organ of monopoly propaganda. Together
with the KGB. APN successfully “excludes” (destroys) not only “all
counter-propaganda”, not only information, but the very sources of
that information in several cases, including foreign sources, such as
Radio stations broadcasting in Russian language, certain newspa¬
pers, public organisations and individuals.

Many open societies lived through many painful processes of re-
evaluation of traditional social values. In many parts ot the world
good will, common sense had retreated and yielded to the aggressive
advance of the system based on hatred, terror, “class struggle” etc.
Western media discovered numerous "conspiracies" in every possible
level of authority in the free world — from president to local police.
But the main source of discontent — totalitarian agression, and its
ideological front — Novosti Press Agency, escaped the critical atten¬
tion of public opinion. The APN and its Kremlin owners remain
respectable and accepted. The APN publications, booklets, posters,
cartoons, newspapers, meetings, etc. — have unrestricted freedom in
any open society “PROVO KING DES I AB1LISA I ION ol the very
open society. With the dawning of “detente” policy, Novosti has
greatly increased its activity both at home and abroad.

Why this is happening 9 Let historians and psychologists answer
this question. The author of this book, a former Novosti employee,
takes upon himself to explain HOW' it is done and how does it feel to
be a part of subversive system, while inwardly disagreeing both with
the dirty methods and “final aims” of Novosti Press Agency.

: ■

Novosli headquarters, Moscow, Pushkin square

Soviet Press —- the most truthful in the world

NOVOSTI FROM ROOF TO BASEMENT, THINGS
AND PEOPLE IN BETWEEN

My first encounter with the Novosti building was in April of 1959
1 was in my second year at the Institute of Oriental Languages, Mos¬
cow State University. A friend. Herman Belousov, had invited me to
join him for a recording session in the studio of what was then the
Sovinform Bureau. 1 was to play the guitar, tor a propaganda
program that would be broadcast to Indonesia.

Herman had been a student at the same institute, whom I met
when a participant in one ol the amateur artistic activities which are
all but compulsory in such places. He was a talented singer with a
genius for languages; tall, and of dark complexion, he had large
brown eyes. With these qualifications he was bound to be popular;
his only problem was drink, in which he sometimes immersed himself
for several days.

I had known Herman only briefly when I discovered that his
drinking was the symptom of a different problem. He had loved and
lost. So Indonesian did he appear, that he had been the natural
choice to “infiltrate" an Indonesian delegation which was attending
an international movie festival in Moscow, as its interpreter. I here
he met Tutti. an 1 ndonesian movie star, by his account charming and
delicate; simple, honest and as yet unspoiled. Their love had been
deep and mutual, said he. after half bottle of vodka . . . The KGB
summoned him, to say. categorically, that they did not approve of
intermarriage between Soviets and Indonesians, this in spite of the
fact that a Sino-Soviet "split" had recently occurred, and Indonesia
was almost the only "brotherly country 'Sovietcommentatorscould
identify in the Orient. Perhaps actual marriage to an Indonesian
would carry the stigma of incest.

My reaction was confused. 1 had thought before that the beautiful
talk about friendship and cooperation between the proletarians of all
countries might in fact be nothing but; but I was a member of the
Young Communist League, son of a stall colonel, raised in loyalty. I
had seen Soviet movies in which innocent Soviet citizens were sub¬
verted by beautiful movie stars who turned out to be CIA; who took
military secrets and then hoarsely laughed in their victims* faces,
blowing smoke from Camel cigarettes. I had been taught that love
and sex in the West are merchandise. Tutti was from the Orient...
Even so 1 felt uneasy.

Vertical quarter-wave antenna
capable ot intercepting government
limousine communications

High-frequency antenna
trained on Peniagon
and Slate Depanment

SOVIET EMBASSY

High-frequency antenna
trained on CIA
commumcatton facilities

Bfucc Hoertri

The KGB's ‘ears’ at work: Listening for secrets—and sometimes , just plain gossip

Spy gear atop Soviet con sulate in San Fra ncisco

On a clear day you can see a jet take off.

Most of the electronic
snooping is done by the
Novosti-KGB personnel

I learned to forgive drunkenness and rudeness in Herman, for
underneath 1 found softness and understanding. We were still
sobering up after a rude evening when we made our broadcast for
Sovinform. and I was hoping that thousands of miles away, at least
on this occasion, Tutti would be listening to Radio Moscow.

********

The Novosti building, in Pushkin Square, isa rectangle enclosing a
courtyard. The only gate to that yard adjoins a side street, which
separates Novosti and the editorial offices of the “New Times.’'The
gate is well secured; behind it, sheet metal deflects idle viewing.

In the long corridors, there are those who speculate about the
building's history. Prior to the Bolshevik Revolution it was, accord¬
ing to one school, a prison for very special guests; according to
another, an elite school for Okhrana’s spies. Afterwards, it was
appropriated by the Cheka, the Bolshevik Secret Police, and later, a
school for foreign revolutionaries, under the Comintern. During the
Great Patriotic War(the Soviet description of World War II).Sovin¬
form moved in. Novosti Press Agency was founded in 1961. a whim
of Krushchev on the advice of his son-in-law; Sovinform disap¬
peared. or to be more precise, it melted in.

Accurate or not. the story conforms to an impression that the
building was always the most suitable place for the shady affairs of
our Empire, which are not for the masses' eyes. The building is a tan¬
gible monument to State Secrecy. Let’s divulge some of it.

The roof is a forest of antennae, receiving all possible telex and
wire services; they are not paid for. This is not as unfair as it may
appear, for news from Reuter, AP, UP1 and AFP (unless it is bad
news for the West) never appears in the Soviet press, only on the
desks of nomenklatura of the media. Nor should Novosti bethought
the only perpetrator of this little theft; most Soviet embassies arc
provided with similar equipment. (A radio technician could easily
figure out what they are tuned to by studying the configurations of
the antennae).

On the top floor, on the north side of the Novosti rectangle, are the
teleprinters. They occupy their own large department, separated
from the translators and typists next door by a huge plexiglass wall,
with sliding doors and a remotely controlled lock (manufactured,
incidentally, in the United States). A milkbox opening exists,
through which manuscripts and messages are passed for transmis¬
sion abroad. Most Novosti employees are denied access; means of
communication with the outside world do not belong to the people of
Novosti.

I managed to enter once, for I was on good terms with one Lyova
Dzerd/hinskyi (no relation to the great chatelaine of Lubyanka. as
far as I know). I had met him in New Delhi. Already a trusted person
there, he was carving his way up the Comsomol totem pole Under
his jurisdiction were several huge gray instruments, resembling the
field radios Soviet privates affectionately call “whales"; they were in
consoles, stacked and separated by television screens, across which
patterns of green dots and dashes moved, comprehensible only to
him. These were in the maintenance room adjoining the main hall of
teleprinters. There I saw about 200 of the cantankerous machines,
mounted upon tables in long rows. Most appeared to transmit as well
as receive messages. The operators would feed them with rolled strips
of key-punched paper. Today, thanks to generous computer sales
from the U.S. and Japan, the equipment must be greatly improved.

An iron door would need to be unlocked, if one were to exit the
hall of teleprinters and enter the upper story's east side. It starts with
a spooky fire-exit staircase, where Novosti loafers smoke and gossip.
Beyond it lies the GLAVL.1T room, the censors, perhaps the same
two old men and the fat lady I last saw in 1969. They pored over a
copy with red pencils, frcqucntly consulting large manuals, the litera¬
ry productions of the KGB. In these would be characterized, by sub¬
ject, the sort of information which is “not in accord with state securi¬
ty." Real wages, for instance.

Beyond the censors’ room is a movie projectionist's cubicle, smel¬
ling of garlic and Moskovskaya vodka. Dyadya-Vasya is the boss
and the main consumer of Moskovskaya. Through the projection
appertures uncle Vasya can see what goes on in the confercnce-and-
movie hall. Most of it is of no interest to uncle Vasya, but it fascina¬
ted me greatly. Here press conferences were held for Western corres¬
pondents. I saw cosmonaut Yuri Gagarin here once, unwilling to say
anything which was not written on cue cards before him In large
letters. Mikhail Sholokhov showed up here after his return from
Oslo with a Nobel prize for stolen novels. He. too. was unable to
either speak or read, for he was frightfully drunk I wonder what
foreign television correspondents made out of that “interview."! he
Soviet ambassador to India, comrade Benedictov, talked to the
cream of Novosti here, trying to explain the absence of logic in
Stalin's daugther’s defection from India, which he failed to prevent,
poor fellow. Party meetings are sometimes held here, too. They
would be of no interest to the Western reader unable to appreciate
George Orwell, or better, brother Strugat/ki's Fable of the Trilateral
Commission (Troyka — escaped the Soviet censors, probably by
posing as science fiction).

Western movies (made in the West) are also shown, occasionally.

and to a select audience of Novosti employees, their families and
some friends employed by soliclnye Slate bureaucracies, such as
TASS. Radio Moscow. Pravda. etc. Here I saw Nevil State's On the
Beach, and left it confused, like my colleagues, unable to understand
the omission from it of anti-Soviet rhetoric. A Soviet movie about a
nuclear war would be full of anti-Western accusations. It would show p

horrible war scenes too. and this did not. (ABC's ‘Day After” has j

changed that omission recently . . Human emotions were por¬
trayed. which a Soviet version would distort More confusion was
created by “The Nuremberg Trials”: only an idiot would tail to see
the resemblance between the Na/.i defendants (who were at least
receiving a fair trial) and those who occupy corresponding positions
of power in the Soviet Union.

(1 have often puzzled over the motive for showing these movies, p

knowing from experience that our system always has an ulterior
motive.^Was it intellectual torture? Was it a testing ground, to find
out if those who will visit the West can return with their hypocrisy-
intact?) T if

From the conference hall, through a reception area, one enters the
south side. It has a long corridor, and on its doors we lind the names
of the worlds political and geographical regions The world tsshccd.
like a melon, into segments, and the respective Novosti departments
gnaw at their shares, working for the ultimate victory of Com¬
munism. to completely devour all of mankind 1 worked in the
department for South-East Asia, which is typical of all the depart¬
ments. It tends to the ideological needs, as defined by the Politbu-
reau. of India. Burma, Thailand. Laos. Cambodia. Vietnam. Malay¬
sia. Indonesia, the Philippines. Pakistan and Ceylon-

Down the corridor wc pass Atrica, L.atin America, and several
other developing areas. My big boss, the editor of South Asia, would
be found at the end of the corridor: Valery Pushkov. a modest and
diligent comrade upon whose face was written indelibly the reticent
expression of a boy who had been caught masturbating.

Along the western corridor of the upper floor there are several
other rooms for several other bosses of various parts of the earth.

each of them with his own facial peculiarity.

Finally, wc get to the northwest corner, occupied by the editorial
board of “Soviet Land” magazine, printed and distributed in India as
an expression of brotherly concern for the ideological upbringing of
our Indian friends. A disproportionate amount of the work (every¬
thing but the translation into local languages and printing) was done
in Moscow. I worked on the periodical from Decern be i 1965 to
March 1967. 1 was chosen for my task, the writing of economic .

stories, for my qualifications; l had been a translator for the Soviet
economic aid group which constructed refineries at Koyali and
Barauni. Soviet monuments in India. I can speak Hindi and Urdu.
Besides, while on my first assignment to India. I was a “voluntary”
distributor of “Soviet Land” magazine among the Indian workers at
the construction projects.

As we walk to the north side of the rectangle, wc sec a typists' hall
on one side, a translation department on the other. The typists fall
into three categories: unmarried, divorced and separated They arc
ruled by an austere Madame.

The translators are ol various ages, sexes and nationalities. Many
are the offspring of foreign communists who came to the Soviet
Union in search of the Brightest Future for All Mankind, but found a
status of nye-vyuescinoi (non-cxitable) for themselves, their children,
and their children's children: they have lost the right to return to
whence they came. They saw the unreported side of Soviet life.

Some were recent graduates of foreign language schools. Atten¬
dance had become possible under Krushchev, prior to whom the
learning of a foreign language was considered the first step towards
high treason. They make routine translations, into broken English,
of the Central Committee members'speeches, articles in ITavdu. and
statements by cosmonauts and ballerinas.

Wc return to the teleprinters, or rather to their plexiglass shield,
and find a staircase to descend to the third floor.

****

Let's tiptoe to the highest office ol Novosti. past the reception area
where a tigress of a secretary is purring something into a high fre¬
quency telephone. Boris Burkov, the director worked in an empo¬
rium of souvenirs from many countries, selected with all the taste of
the jokes he made to visitors, which I was sometimes compelled to
translate (Comrade Burkov blamed the translator if his guests did
not laugh, so 1 had to compensate for the lack of humor with devia¬
tions from the original.) Six southern and six eastern windows light¬
ed his menage, which included a meeting table, a small desk with
numerous telephones, some matching chairs, further chairs around
the wall and by the windows, and shelves for his unopened books.
The telephones were ordinary, high frequency, and vertushka,
(scrambler) to contact the elite of nomenklatura and the Kremlin. A
little door, as if to a closet, led in fact to another room with shower,
bath and couch; here he would retire after an excess of toasts to
international friendship and cooperation. Lunch, with vodka, would
be brought to him here by a special waitress from the special Novosti
kitchen in the basement. It was hard to respect Comrade Burkov, for
he reminded me of Gorki’s play “on the Bottom''; it was as if he had

A delegation of "progressive" foreigners visiting Novosti.

Under numbers; (.Comrade Zaichikov, 2.Valeri Pushkov,

3.Tomas Schuman, 4.Cornrade Yakunin (Central Committee of
Communist Party, USSR)

Congregation of "useful idiots" boozing with Novosti top
brass. Sitting at head of the table: Boris Burkov, APN
Chairman. I am standing next to the Indian poet.

floated up to the surface, and there was something unclean about
him. His gestures were artificially friendly, even when drunk. Com¬
rade Burkov loved to play democracy and egalite. 1 didn’t trust him,
but many foreign delegates did. I understand that he sank again
several years ago.

Comrade Zaichikov, (he deputy director, was among my favorites
in the Novosti brass. His room was right across from Burkov’s. 1
often visited him with crowds of foreign “progressive” scavengers,
who would shamelessly ask Comrade Zaichikov for everything from
an Aeroflot ticket to Paris to treatment at the Kremlin clinic to cure
their VI) and hernias acquired in the unequal struggle against
Western imperialism. Comrade Zaichikov would patiently listen to
them, and his face and hands would cover with perspiration. He
would wipe them before shaking hands with the visitors, but the
sound of a foreign language would make him sweat all the more
profusely. Comrade Zaichikov was a shy person. Vodka was another
cause of his condition. I suspected that Zaichikov had. somewhere
inside him. some sort of conscience. You see, he was a war veteran,
missing part of one leg. As the son of a professional soldier. I respect¬
ed those who had suffered in the war. I knew better than many that in
reality, many Soviet military personnclare “doves."The “hawks”arc
the fat apparatchiks, who hide in airconditioned bunkers and make
long speeches at world peace conferences. Tall, skinny, and ascetic,
except for an incongruous pair of French eyeglasses. Comrade
Zaichikov was. in my eyes, a dove attacked by swarms of the hawks.
Sometimes I wished I had a shotgun.

Along the corridor ol the east side, glass walls reveal the oflices of
the Party, trade union, and young Communist bosses. In one
frequently sat an Odessa Jew called Pishchik, a member of the direc¬
torial board who had found his way along the Party line of least
resistance, whose black eyes radiated tiredness and a certainty that
someday things will improve. I came to him for a signature whenever
my boss disappeared and I had something to be transmitted abroad.
He would ask me to tell him what is was about, and sign without
reading, hardly noticing the absence of a censorship stamp. Then he
would retire back into the shadows, by an imported air conditioner,
and continue his struggle to remain awake.

Past a staircase (the same spooky one) is the kartoteka. or Tile
room. Around its w'alls are shelves ol files; in the middle, two 1 her-
mofax machines (the Socialist Xerox) produce pink-brow n copies of
Novosti articles, to be registered with rubber stamp and code num¬
bers. indexed, summarized and entered in large books by date, sub¬
ject and author, with further copies to be distributed to other piopa-
ganda organs, resummarized, recatalogued, and Filed. The original is
reprocessed for separate filing. Nothing is lost, nothing is tindable.
Of that two plump, slow girls take care.

"Recomendation letter" — a "must" in everyone’s file with
the Personnel Department.

XfPiSTtFlCTIEl

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hm rify BCsasHoaTtipM uosanaapoaria, 1939 roaa
pti;e hr, py«o»rO| «ona a 1994 ro*a, aoac^»

SuMma hum * 00*90002

. -

ESTISJIOS DU. aiaaoTWi q*8*«*w Babiwyi* *oc«>*ra.x
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na npuatioy :tit sasca ootui o owxubo opuraflw tiw. it « .:a;.v
■ 6tm 8 -rpaxaoK rpaaotou 5K BflBCU. Dpiwwet am. ■:;«« ; ! ‘-v.
e 0<5:.ac*u0H:!6:t jcrorn Hhowtjtb. B 1957 rosy pueuvxi s .j-.n'.-
oojctupe ClBpo BJIHCJ KBOJiTyra. B 1958-59 y^eCHOtf rtay va>i.c?

Cm rafipiui uicucii ctpo Cuctmtjt*.

TB 1 . BMBUl DU- XDjooo nmrf B*r»*ox»a uu * »*««
tKww * » pr ..-,,....

mu sjiC-iuui x »:.o»,itaouull a yano oac4::u.it »k.>

Novusli* Identify (ard. proof of the
absence of any identity — both it and
honesty had been handed over to the
'special department* in exchange fur
this red-covered card which opens
more doors to the bearer than the
'American K\press' credit card.

Kjpca

/Eyreaxo/

Eaontyra

/i.t w—V

Several more editorial rooms grace the north side of the third
floor. I hesc serve the English speaking countries, the United King¬
dom and Ireland, the United States and Canada. Australia and New
Zealand.

The west side has doors which read “Outsiders Keep Out.” Behind
these doors are two departments, the “first department*’ and the
“special "They constitute the heart of every Soviet media agency, or.
more precisely, the bladder.

In the “first.” all messages between Novosti and the Central Com¬
mittee are kept. A special courier will arrive at the main entrance in a
black Volga car. He is generally a skinny and pimpled young man.
with the rank of junior lieutenant of the special CC Guards. The
lieutenant will be chained to a briefcase. He will not have the key. but
lie will have a handgun to defend the secrecy of correspondence
between the State and the "independent, public” news agency. He
will not say a word in the elevator.

In the "special department”, on the contrary, the secrecy of corres¬
pondence is violated, and by the same state. The correspondence,
though, is that of the Novosti staff. A nice lazy girl was working
there, the last time I pecked through the door. Her job was to open
the mail, whether personal or professional, and make copies of
interesting letters.

Next door, down the corridor, is the personnel department,
guarded by a retired KGB. A fireproof safe section contains the per¬
sonnel files. In these the diplomas of staff members are stored, toge¬
ther with every letter of recommendation, memorandum, reprimand
or other clue to our professional existence. The prize document is a
52-part questionnaire (the anketa ), on which you have answered
every conceivable question about yourself. Even your insides are
known to the personnel department: your file includes x-rays. But
the most important document in each person's file is his objectivka, a
two- or three-page compilation of the most subjective opinions —
those of KGB informers. Every department will have at least one of
these creatures.

A section of the personnel department is called vovennisioll{ mili¬
tary desk) and guarded by a babushka, with military' induction
tickets for all members of the staff who are also reservists I, for
instance, was an officer of the reserve, and when I was assigned to
India, babushka made a telephone call. I was told to report for
retraining, to a camp near Moscow. It took me a week of negotia¬
tions and commuting between my Novosti boss, voenkotnat and the
babushka, to prevent my “requalification." Even when I had a ticket
to New Delhi, the omnipotent Defense Ministry, through its
babushka, tried to send me to Ethiopia as a translator for the Soviet
military “advisors." What saved me from that wasaspravka, ccrtify-

ing that my training was in Indian languages, which are not spoken in
Ethiopia. But who cares . . . now?

French. German and Scandinavian services are provided on the
south side of the third floor. There is also a section o! Communica¬
tions and a room for telephone operators, whose job it was to make
high-frequency connections, sometimes abroad, usually to Party
officials. If Novosti guides are showinga foreigner around the Soviet
Union, the communications would be busy getting messages through
to the local Party offices, warning them toclean up in preparation for
the foreign delegation. There must be plenty ol vodka, and good
food; the roads must be swept and fences painted; drunkards
removed from gutters; collective farms made to look efficient. And
put a grand piano in the park and someone to play it. preferably a
worker.

The second floor is not very interesting. Its north side houses tech¬
nical and administrative services. If one is taking aforeigner to lunch
one comes here to arrange coupons for taxis, credit in a good restau¬
rant, and a memo for the accounting department, which will provide
some cash to throw around. Tickets for planes and trains are also
reserved here.

Walking briskly down the east side’s corridor wc pass the photo¬
graphy department. This is really another filing system, with an
inexhaustible stock of pictures to illustrate the achievements ol the
Socialist Motherland.

Countless photographs with negatives are tiled here, for evei\
conceivable occasion, but essentially bearing the same message.
Readers who have wondered how it is that, as socialism triumphs in a
country, its people begin to smile with an empty but eternal opti¬
mism. might address their inquiries to this section. Whether in
Havana. Belgrade, Peking or Harare, one thing you can say for
socialism, everybody loves it in the same way. This phenomenon
should be a matter of research for psychologists.

Countries already enjoying socialism arc served by the editorial
departments of the south and west sides. The material produced here
may not be as subtle as that produced for the third world, but there is
nevertheless a sobering message; you live beautifully and securely,
and if you behave, we may not have to “liberate" you again with our
tanks.

A descent to the ground floor will be accompanied by the smell of
pirozhki and yesterday's cabbage soup, for a cafeteria and dining hall
are on either side of the building's lobby. Let's walk out. and see if we
can get back in.

Large glass doors greet the visitor at the main entrance; except lor
two grey-uniformed sentries, looking quaintly like officers in Hitlers
army, the building looks more approachable here than anywhere.

The sentries ask for your pass, they will send staff home who are
without one. A visitor must explain his business carefully, for the
sentry will call the person he wishes to see, and only if the two stories
agree will it be possible for the visitor to enter. The sentries are retired
KGB. probably demoted for missing a quota — of arrests, perhaps
On their faces is written a boring expression — “fifteen years ago 1
would have shot you.”

Novosti is by no means the most difficult building in Moscow to
sneak into; try visiting the Central Committee in Nogina Square. For
intermediates 1 suggest the telegraph agency TASS, or the Moscow
Radio building. There the guards arc internal police, and visitors
check in as if to foreign country. Your pass is your visa; half an hour
or more can be spent (usually standing) waiting for the gentlemen
behind a brick wall (with one brick missing) to process it. make out
an extra slip of paper, and call your name.

Back to Novosti. To either side of the lobby, the corridors display
Soviet personalities and achievements. Smiling milkmaids, thought¬
ful nuclear physicists and dumb conceited Party officials share space
on the walls with charts of the increase of something, probably the
number of people who have been “agitated and provoked” by Novos¬
ti propaganda.

Taking the left corridor, we come to the cafeteria, where, if we
have some money left before the next pohuhka, we may have
some beer. Drinking to excess in the cafeteria is not advisable for
Novosti staff: it gives the informers too easy a job. On the other
hand, drinking to excess is common in Novosti. out of bottles con¬
cealed in liling cabinets, pockets and bottom drawers. A foreign
colleague of mine once remarked how much water seems to be
drunk by Novosti staff in the mornings . . .

Auntie Vera is not only the cafeteria’s patron saint, but its
manager. Her jovial, and substantial, presence accounts for no
small part of the morale in this tomb of journalism. It is often
suggested that she steals food; which is. in Russia, some sort of
backhanded compliment, for everyone who works in cafeterias
steals food. Stealing is an essential part of a planned eco¬
nomy.

Returning our empty bottles, and getting back for each the 12
kopcek deposit, we may round the corridor to the west side of the
ground floor and to the kassa cash-box. It is from this tiny room,
with a tinier reception area, that foreign “progressives'* are
paid their thirty silver pieces lor contributing to the destruction of
their native “decadent capitalist” motherlands, and for printing
the truth about the Motherland of Socialism” — the Soviet
Union. Most take it meekly; some have the nerve to complain
that the number of pieces is unequal to their number of pages of

truth. A few take money on the promise to write in their native
countries the glories they have seen, and few of these tail to deli¬
ver. But the really important contributors from abroad have
their money taken to them, by persons of approximately equiva¬
lent rank. Future prime ministers and chicls ot civil services dis¬
dain to be seen by lesser men queuering outside of Novosti cash

windows. . D -

Still. 1 have seen distinguished persons here, lor instance Kavi

Shankar Raval, a painter from India; the poet Ah Sardar
lafri; another poet, and admirer of Lenin. Sumitranandan
Punt: Biswas, editor of Amrita Bazaar Patrica: A.S. Raman,
editor of Bombay Illustrated; Narayanan, editor ot the daily
Patriot . My colleagues from English-speaking countries told^me
that Mr. Kim Philby himself often sneaked here "incognito" to
collect his Ice lor consulting services rendered to Novosti through the
Disinformation Department of KGB. Many unsuccessful jour¬
nalists and writers from the West and East. North and South,
end up in the queue, nattered, or too cynical to care that their
books are printed in millions of copies in the USSR, where circu¬
lation is never an indicator of popularity. (It is established
"from above" by Agitprop.) The log books of this little room could
say a lot about a rather large number of otherwise respectable

people. . .... , i

A dispatch office for truck and car drivers is lurther along the

west corridor, by the arch which leads into the courtyard. Behind it
there are several large rooms occupied by the printing lacilmes
for Novosti daily bulletins, lor both domestic and foreign con¬
sumption. The rest of the floor is too boring to investigate. So. these
arc the four floors of the Novosti building, but that is not all.

There is a rather interesting basement, f ollow me, please

If we take an elevator, which is usually done only by "special y

waitresses and some bosses, we can get right into a "special,
closed" restaurant provided lor Novosti nomenklatura and dcser- j

ving foreign guests ( Those who do not work — for APN. will not j.

eat. - a socialist quotation from the Bible).

The restaurant looks like a replica of a small decadent
steak house somewhere in New' York: high-back chairs and
benches divide the tabic area into cozy booths, soft lights, soli but
progressive Socialist-realistic music emanates from concealed
speakers: unobtrusive waitresses and first class food Irom the
Central Committee reserves.

I used to take quite a number of foreign guests here, to toast
their truthful stories about our classless society. Not a single hb-
leltist whore, while munching on the "peopleV* caviar, asked the
Novosti hosts about the sharp discrepancy between food here

December 1967 . Picture by.John Philby

Cambridge, 1933 : Maclean (set arrow) in the second rank ol the Peace

March

and in the “peoples’' restaurants (which any one of them could
visit, if they wanted). Have the heroic Soviet people not deserved
decent food after single-handedly defeating Nazis, conquering
Space and liberating Africa? 1 never stopped puzzling over the
unique ability of my progressive observers not to observe things
“untypical" for my wonderful motherland.

From the restaurant, located in the south wing of the base¬
ment. we may turn to the west by a corridor and enter a roomy
medical section, where employees of APN have their insides regis¬
tered on x-rays and arc treated for the traumas they acquire in
their heavy struggle against the ideological diversions of the
West.

The western tunnel abruptly ends before huge airtight doors,
leading, I was told, into a fallout shelter provided for. let’s say,
some Soviet journalists in case of nuclear strike. At first the
existence of these shelters seemed to me a sign of paranoia in our
leaders, but I learned from a friend of mine, an employee of the
Foreign Affairs Ministry, that it is more of a calculated prepa¬
ration for war.

One day, while entering a Moscow- metro station, we saw- a
team of workers laboring over huge airtight gates, half a meter
thick, made of steel and concrete, which in an activated, vertical
position could completely cut off the metro station from the
entrance tube As I remember, it was just before the Cuban missile
crisis. I expressed my suspicion to my friend that our democratic
junta was probably providing us with shelters in case President
Kennedy ordered a strike against Moscow in exchange for
Miami.

Not us. said the future diplomat, even the entire Moscow metro
system cannot possibly shelter all eight million Moscovites. The
gates are not to protect people from radiation, but to protect
nomenklatura from a panic stricken Hood of people.

Soviet media of that period was hysterical with laughter
about stupid Americans paying hundreds of thousands of
dollars to build their individual family bomb shelters. Some
Soviet magazines, like the illustrated Ogonyok and Krokodti,
printed photographs of the shelters with sarcastic captions,
explaining that some Americans stock these shelters with canned
foods, electric batteries and loaded rifles — to protect themselves
not from the enemy, but from their neighbors, less fortunate prole¬
tarians, left shelterless above. My friend explained to me that in
every Soviet sofidnyi office, in one of its endless departments, there
sits a modest bureaucrat, pushing insignificant but already
secret papers. His real function is that of an "early warning
radar system." In case of a nuclear war, he (or she) will receive

an innocent telephone call, and someone will mention a code¬
word phrase, maybe something like “the swallows are coming
back to Yalta” or “Auntie Shoora sends her best regards to
Petva.” That will trigger the evacuation operation. The clerk
will open his fate, produce a scaled envelope, tear it open, and
call everyone who is listed, on his switchboard. The selected few will
walk into an elevator, as if they had been called to another
xoveshchaimi\ and peacefully go down to the shelter, leaving the
rest of the office blissfully unaware of the approaching missile, to
roast m the nuclear lire. Everything would be orderly and purely
scientific. No last-minute class struggle at the airtight doors, no
need for loaded rifles and canned foods . . .

This much for the building. Let's get the hell out of the gloomy
basement and walk into the sunlit prison-yard of Novosti. In
summertime the yard is used by auntie Vera for her buffet. Under
the round colorful umbrellas there arc neat plastic tables and
chairs. Novosti folk flush sandwiches down with Zhiguli beer.

i\a ztlunn ic!

Another boozing session with "progressive" guests of Novosti

NOVOSTI “KITCHEN”, OR SHOULD WE SAY
“OUTHOUSE?

Victorious Socialism, as claimed by the Soviet textbooks of “Poli¬
tical-economy”, had awakened tremendous, unprecedented produc¬
tive forces in the society, and during a historically-short period of
time had demonstrated (to members of the Politburcau) the obvious
advantages of the centralized planned economy over the so-called
“free market”, plagued with inflation, stagnation, oppression,
exploitation, and general overall crisis. It was explained to me in
childhood, that in the West the capitalists are so badly organised and
so greedy, that they prefer to burn wheat and pour milk into rivers,
rather than give it to the poor masses. It is called “overproduction”.
At this point 1 was expected to feel class hatred: “Bloody bourgeois
scum! Milk into river! Why not bring some to Mytishchi?”

In my Motherland there is no danger of overproduction, that I can
witness after 30 years of socialist life. Shortages, but only as tempo
rary complications of rapid socialist grow th. We may sometimes be
short of potatoes, bread, matches, shoelaces, shoes, coal, kerosene,
sheet iron, soap, strawberryjam, ballpens, living space, corn, wheat,
meat of the first category, meat of the second, simple meat, eggs,
warm underwear Druzhba (made in Peoples China), winter coats
made in Czechoslovakia, dry fish from anywhere — ‘secondary’
untypical products, w-ithout which our nation has survived and even
made glorious achievements in space and Africa.

But not for a single second in the history of socialism have we been
short of propaganda. This semi-fluid we produce in abundance for
ourselves and for our foreign brothers.

The biggest overproduction of propaganda can be observed within
Novosti. Where does it come from? How does it collect in the sewers,
travel along, ferment, and what kind of fertiliser does it make? What
sort of fruit grows on fields, sprinkled by our manure? Let us follow
the flow of it from the very source.

Roughly speaking, there are three main sources of propaganda
collected in Novosti: I) “Upper” — from Agitprop of the Party’s
central committee. 2) “External” — from the Soviet mass-media out¬
side APN, and from foreign media, both progressive and reactiona¬
ry, 3) “Internal” — whatever we excrete ourselves.

Agitprop develops long-term and fortnightly propaganda plans
for the Soviet and foreign media, as w r ell as key-points of Marxist-
Lcninist Dogma, as interpreted by the present ideological elite. This
is for APN, our “general line”. Even the most “independent” and
mature propaganda makers must digest Agitprop’s formulirovki
before giving forth.

Agitprop's plans arc briefed to the chief editors of Novosti during
regular meetings at the central committee. Enlightened, the chiefs
come to Novosti and brief the senior staff — department editors, etc.
These consequently, elaborate the plans in accordance with current
events in their respective geographical areas, to match the "needs ot
specific nations. In cases when current events stubbornly happen in
contradiction to the directives of the Kremlin, the department’s chief
editor coordinates the How and consistency of propaganda with the
Central Committee by phone.

“External” sources can be subdivided into “domestic”, “progres¬
sive foreign" and “reactionary foreign". Every year, day and minute,
the monstrous Soviet mass media monopoly floods our country and
out neighbours with oceans of stinking semi-fluid. The average
homo sovietico is used to the stench, and after three-quarters of a
century simply passes it through his system as non-digcstible. Novos¬
ti men are quite another matter. We distinguish smells, colours, con¬
sistencies and blends, selecting the choicest pieces, chew- them
lovingly, and excrete now combinations and shapes.

My duty, lor example, was to digest a pile of Soviet newspapers
and periodicals daily in search of three or four bits still edible, with
proper seasoning, for our developing brothers in the" 1 hird World ,
particularly those on the Indian subcontinent. 1 his type ot job can be
trusted only to a comrade who has spent some time in India, is fami¬
liar with the languages and media of the country and w ho knows the
tastes and mores of the population. Thus, for example, while picking
through a rhapsodic piece from Soviet magazine Ogonyok, 1 omit
references to hard labouring Soviet women (on railway and con¬
struction projects, etc.), so not to scare our unemancipated Islamic
sisters in Lucknow.

Another “domestic" source of raw propaganda is authors, out-
sidres. freelancers, professionals, bureaucrats or “intelligentsia" —
obrazo vanscfiina.

Each APN editor is expected to have a circle of these experts in
various fields.

Let us take, for example, a typical case, when the Central Commit¬
tee have decided to mark the glorious anniversary of Soviet Power in
a Soviet Asian republic. Let us imagine also, that by coincidence one
of the largest newspapers in India (say. The Statesman) has
expressed a desire to get from Novosti something about farming in
Uzbekistan. That often happens: to “balance" the flow of informa¬
tion from the West, editors of Indian papers will pick up a Soviet
story, straight from the horse, as it were Upon getting sober, our
man in Delhi will immediately send to Novosti Headquarters in
Moscow a telex, zayavka- request. Suppose, the piece of paper falls
on my desk with comrade Makhotins red pencil mark: ‘please, satis¬

fy*. My first act would be to cal! the Representation of Uzbek SSR at
the Council of Ministers of the USSR, and request the minister in
charge, comrade, say, Gasanbeckov, to write for Novosti something
about the glorious achicvemenlsof Uzbek people under the guidance
of the Leninist Central Committee.

Comrade Gasanbeckov allows himself to be talked into such an
important venture after half an hour on the telephone. He passes the
buck to his aide, who spends another two hours on the phone, taking
my dictation on the “main points" In two or three weeks the article is
put on comrade Gasanbccko's desk. Comrade Gasanbeckov may
even read some of it. before signing, and dropping in the “out"tray.
The article travels with a special ministerial dispatch to Novosti.
sometimes in a black Chaika limousine. It becomes obvious that the
whole piece is illiterate, too long, and on a different subject: methods
of cotton cross-breading. But Novosti's accounts department readily
issues a modest honorarium — about four hundred rubles — to
comrade Gasanbeckov. It is a trifle for a minister, but it pleasantly
tickles his author's ego and further strengthens brotherly lies
between Uzbek and Russian bureaucracies.

Sometimes, though, such an article is still born: cither the minister
is “out for the meeting at CC’\ or has a hangover, or his aide mispla¬
ces the note with “main points" and is too shy to call me again. In
other words, the opus docs not appear, and I noticesteel in my boss’s
glances in the mornings. In this case I rewrite from a Tashkent local
newspaper Kommunist Uzbekistonv. add some details from the
Kazakhstan paper Lenin Zholy, salt and spices, mention Indira
Ghandhi's visit to I bilisi and comrade Gasanbeckov*s trip to Punjab
last year, retype in three copies, and send to the Representation of
Uzbek SSR. The article comes back with the precious doodle of
comrade Gasanbeckov and the rest goes as above, including the
“modest" honorarium.

The opus must, of course, pass through censor, be coordinated
with Agitprop's recent propaganda plan, etc. By theend of the fourth
month it lands on the desk of the Statesman's editor in New Delhi
with a rubber stamp: “Exclusive from Novosti" By that time, suffer¬
ing through the monsoon season, the editor is unable to remember
why he ordered it.

Here, to refresh his memory, comes the Novosti man in Delhi with
a bottle (or a case, depending on the importance of the topic) of
whisky. The stuff is printed with photos of smiling Uzbek farmers,
proving the unmisiakble advantages of Soviet socialist agriculture in
formerly backward Asian regions.

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Vicious circle of lie: a reprint of Novosti fabrication plan¬
ted in a Canadian Communist tabloid — in Soviet 'Travda".

ONE DAY IN THE LIFE OF A NOVOSTI
EMPLOYEE

7:00 a.m.

Heroically overcoming the headache — the result of yesterday’s
socializing with Novosti colleagues and our foreign “little brothers"

1 wake up in my closet of a room in the communal apartment we
share with another family, that of a worker who makes parts for
sputniks at a supersecret factory in the neighboring township of
Podlipki. Trying not to disturb the proletariat, or to awaken my
parents (“Where were you so late yesterday? Is it really necessary to
spend THAT much time with your colleagues?"), I tiptoe to our
communal bathroom. My parents sleep across the corridor. Once in
the bathroom my concern is not to fart too loud, for ourapartment is
far from soudproof.

After scanning through a Pravda editorial. I crumple the front
page of the most truthful newspaper in the world. Having tried to
avoid imprinting myself with the large portrait ofeomrade Brezhnev,
delivering another historical speech. 1 make sure it is discretely
flushed down.